Three Things
by Hikaru Morinaga
Summary: What would you do if you fell in love with someone?" Leave it to Schuldig to ask questions about love, who only loved three things in his life. One shot.


**Three Things**

"Do you think there's such a thing as 'true love', Crawford?"  
They were on the rooftop of the building Eszett gave them to live in, to use as a headquarters of sorts, staring out into the Bay. The remnants of traffic going over the bridge were reflected in the water, though they couldn't make out individual shapes, and the light from the headlights looked like fireflies moving quickly in one direction and slowly in the other. Occasionally the quiet would be interrupted by the piercing sound of a car horn, serving to irritate others and to not have traffic move any faster than it was a minute before.

Crawford sounded slightly amused when he answered, "No." Leave it to Schuldig to talk about love.  
Schuldig took a puff from his cigarette, exhaled through his nose, and left it to burn in his mouth. "Neither do I."

The wind fanned out his hair, a flame flickering into the dusk-turned sky. He shivered; having only a sleeveless t-shirt and border shorts on wasn't much protection from the cool summer air coming off the Bay waters.  
"What would you do if you fell in love with someone?"  
Crawford looked up from the report he was reading and at Schuldig's back quizzically; he saw him staring out into the ocean, appearing to be deeply contemplating something. The smoke from his cigarette added to the illusion that his hair _was_ actually fire trying to lick at the sky. Stars were beginning to appear, one by one, as dusk slowly made way into night. Schuldig sat on one of the metal bars that made up the railing surrounding the roof, bare feet dangling off the edge. He clutched the top rung with his arms, folding them so he could rest his head on them.

"I would get them as far away from me as possible in the shortest amount of time, giving them little explanation aside from something generic." Crawford scratched in chin in thought. "Perhaps I'd make them hate me so they would leave me alone. Regardless of my feelings, I would put their safety first, unless they had a death wish." He chuckled.  
"But that would only be if I had a heart with which to _love_ with."  
Another drag from his cigarette.  
"Let's face it, she'd probably end up dead just for knowing you exist," Schuldig said. "That's how this business works. Being a murderer isn't exactly an occupation you can have a family in. That and I hear it's quite the turn-off because the stakes are so high, and they don't want to wait around for someone if they end up in jail. Or have to plan any funerals for someone in their twenties."

Crawford shifted in the lounge chair, report forgotten. For once he and Schuldig had a civil conversation going on.  
"What about you? What would _you_ do if you fell in love with someone?"  
Schuldig chuckled before taking a long drag from the cigarette still smoldering away. He was almost finished with this one, and was contemplating a third. It was a wonder he had any lungs left, the way he smoked.  
"I'd kill 'em," he said, with no hesitation. "Put a .45 right between the eyes. Innocent girls don't deserve a slow, painful death. They also don't deserve to fall in love with telepathic psychos, either."

Crawford gazed at the stars, trying to read them like his ancestors did long ago. Tonight, they did not speak to him, meaning nothing remotely exciting was going to happen any time soon. Perhaps Eszett was giving them a break? Maybe that was too much of a stretch, too much to hope for.  
"Why not let them go and reason with them to get away because, to put it frankly, you're an assassin whose job is to brutally kill people for money? That being with you is dangerous to the point where it isn't worth it?"  
Schuldig toyed with his disposable lighter. "You can't love someone if they're dead, right? So they're better off."  
"The one who is alive, or the one who is dead?"

Schuldig threw a look at Crawford over his shoulder.  
"Both of 'em."  
"So you would rather not get involved at all."  
Schuldig shrugged. It was night now, the sky a midnight blue punctuated by light from the streetlamps below. There was too much light pollution in these parts, so unlike where he and Crawford were on the edges of Munich, in Austria, even in France.  
"Like I said before, any girl who met us would come to a gruesome end anyway. Might as well make it easier."

Crawford left the comfort of his lounge chair and walked over to the railing where Schuldig had perched himself.  
"You just don't want to be left vulnerable."  
Schuldig scoffed. "Don't joke. I couldn't give two shits about love. The only person I love is myself, and even then it's more of a love/hate relationship. I'd be happier if I was normal."  
Crawford turned his back on the beautiful scenery and went over to the door leading inside.  
"You love two things in this world, Schuldig: yourself and killing."  
Schuldig chuckled. "No," he said, as he swung his long legs back over the railing so he was once again on firm ground. The slate panels were cold beneath his feet.  
"I love _three_ things, in order from unadulterated love to just plain love: me, pissing you off, and killing."

Schuldig smirked as he followed a speechless Crawford inside.

It was nice to have the last word for once.


End file.
